


The Heart of a Jaeger

by suyari



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/pseuds/suyari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck and Herc don't get along. Scott and Herc are struggling. But Chuck and Scott get along just fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Installing the heart

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr prompt, this quickly got out of hand. And now I have an exploratory series of the Hansen family on my hands. 
> 
> This may or may not end up AU. I haven't gotten that far yet. So far, everything is based in Chuck's childhood. If it does veer, however, I'll be sure to make note of it.

"It doesn't look like much."

"They never do," Scott replied, wiping his hands on the oily rag. "Until you do this." His arm outstretched, palm gently resting over Chuck's middle as he guided him carefully back, before flipping a switch. As clicks and whirls gave way to a rising glow, his uncle stepped back, keeping Chuck just behind him. "Don't look directly at it."

The warning went unheeded as Chuck gaped at the beauty before him. Simple elements in complex patterns that gave way to the most beautiful sight he'd yet seen beyond a sunrise.

"Chuck, I said--"

Chuck struggled to take his uncle's hand from his face, heart sinking as his uncle leaned slightly to one side and he heard the distinct sound of a great machine shutting down. Then the hand was removed, and Chuck blinked at the concern in his uncle's eyes as the worn face encompassed his vision.

"She's like a star, Chuck," his uncle reprimanded, after apparently coming to the conclusion that Chuck was fine, given the sudden decrease in tension in his body. Sometimes Dad got that way too. It was something Chuck had noticed Jaeger pilots did when startled. Like something inside them, a switch or a dial, went suddenly to eleven.

Chuck smiled his easy smile and clasped his uncle's forearm affectionately. Uncle Scott was easier to get along with than Dad most days, and sometimes, Chuck thought that was because his father's brother loved him more. "I'm okay." Scott's hands tightened briefly against his shoulders. Whether it was to reassure him or Scott, Chuck couldn't say. "I'd be _more_ okay if you got me a pair of goggles so I could do some _real_ work."

"Brat," Scott replied, with a laugh that lightened his entire body. He ruffled Chuck's already short hair and stepped back, turning to the Jaeger core again. He dropped into a deceptively lazy crouch and pointed. "See this bit here?"

Chuck hurried to do the same, dropping his forearms to Scott's thigh and using it for balance so he could lean in closer. His uncle's hand dropped against his back, light, but steady. It was one of the most reassuring feelings in Chuck's world, since his mother died.

He and his father often had trouble. Talking. Listening. Getting along in virtually any way. Herc didn't know how to talk to him so he'd listen. And Chuck didn't know how to listen when he couldn't stop feeling so much all the time. Didn't know how to respond when his father only ever looked at him in ways that made Chuck's insides ache. He'd get a pit in his stomach, his throat would close up, his fists would clench, his jaw work, and his eyes burn. He'd go from perfectly happy to furiously angry in the span of a single meeting glance. And he didn't know how to make it stop.

But his uncle never looked at him like that. Scott always had a smile at the ready. Always had time to listen, even when things were going all to hell and the claxons were sounding and the lights flickering wildly, and all Chuck could think was--

A hand smoothed against the back of his head, fingers easing the tension gathering there. He looked up, feeling like a cornered animal, but Scott wasn't looking at him. "-connects here." He set his wrench against the coupled joint. "So that there's no leaking when the core's active."

Chuck leaned more heavily over Scott's leg, thundering heart resting against the steady form of a Ranger who loved him. Who, even when they were down to the wire, would stop and put off the race to the conn-pod to sink down to Chuck's level and envelop him in a hug so tight that the world stilled, and the panic fled. He'd hold Chuck forever, while Herc shouted at his co-pilot to move his ass. Hold him until he could breathe again, then pull away and cock his head to wink at him. "Hold down the fort, Chuck," he'd say, before standing and ruffling his hair, and hauling ass.

"It's really pretty," Chuck sighed, interrupting Scott mid-explanation.

"Yeah, it is, Chuck." He drew him close, and one of Chuck's hands clasped the edge of Scott's bomber. "Nothing like it in the whole world."

Sometimes, when his voice acquired that tone, Chuck understood they weren't talking about Jaegers anymore. He looked up at his uncle and smiled. It was a moment before Scott noticed, looking down and smiling back.

"Uncle Scott?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"When we're done, can I sit in the conn-pod?"

Scott laughed. "Gotta learn how she works before you can mosey about in her," he replied. But he had that look in his eyes that let Chuck know there was nothing in the world he couldn't ask for. Because Scott suited up and drifted, and went out to face the monsters all the time just to give the world to strangers. And to Chuck.


	2. Baby of mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which PTSD and dinner don't mix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's Herc's POV.
> 
> Not sure if I want to go in any particular order or not just yet, but we'll definitely be seeing the Hansens from all angles of this equation.

There are days Herc wonders how he's ever going to do it without her. He's never exactly been the nurturing type. It isn't that he doesn't love his son, it's just that...well, they've never actually gotten along. Even with Angela alive, he was gone so often, busy with missions and training and being everywhere but home that his son barely knew him. Angela was more than a wife and a mother, she was a buffer between him and their son who was so much like him they couldn't help but buck heads.

As a baby, Chuck had always cried when he held him. As a toddler, Chuck never listened to him, and would argue with him until Angela laughed and persuaded him. Herc had never understood what was so funny about a man arguing with a toddler until he'd come across it in a memory of Scott's during a drift. Holding Chuck by the back of his dungarees, keeping him level as he rattled off to the sound of Chuck's chorus of "NOOOOOO!" He'd admit - only to himself - what Angela would have found endearing in it. Her two stubborn men, equally determined to have their way and equally incapable of giving the other ground. Of course, it had been frustrating then. As frustrating as it was now ridiculous. Herc understood, of course, that there was no use in arguing with a child, but Chuck was his own person, and he _never_ let Herc forget it.

"There's not enough food left now to go wasting it just because you don't like it," he says, squaring off against his son across the dinner table. He wishes more than anything that he could just set a plate down in front of him and Chuck would eat, as he had with Angela at home. He wishes he could smile and coax him, but all he knows is his father's way, and it worked well enough for Scott and him - with some minor discrepancies, here and there. Not enough to make them incompatible, but enough that they got on each other's nerves more than they inspired further affection between them. They're compatible enough to pilot however, and that's all that matters.

Chuck crosses his arms, legs swinging under his seat. He knows his inability to remain still for any extended period of time grates on him, and he suspects his son is doing it on purpose more and more often. He can only hope it doesn't become a nasty habit. "I can't help it if I don't like it," Chuck counters, raising his chin with a sniff. "What if I'm allergic? You gonna force me to eat it so I can die?"

He knows this too is a hot topic for Herc. Or at least, he knows it bears plenty of mileage. Herc can't help it, he's overcome. As always, the mere mention of the possibility of losing Chuck - no matter the scenario - floods him _instantly_ with every emotion he has to put his soul into suppressing every day, just so he can function. All at once, he's back on base, heart pounding and head spinning. Claxons sound and lights flash as chaos erupts around him. A Kaiju's made landfall and his family is in it's path. He doesn't give a damn about the consequences as he _runs_. Drags a too young pilot, frozen in terror, out of the seat of the Bell Kiowa and throws himself into it. It isn't until he's in the air that the horrifying situation blossoms into full agonizing reality. He can only save one of them.

He's turning the chopper in a too hard bank toward Chuck's school before he even thinks about it. And he doesn't stop. It isn't just instinct alone. The desire to protect his innocent child from the big bad predator. He could never forgive himself, could never live with himself if he made the selfish choice. Angela would never. Chuck is the very symbol of their love, made manifest in the same glorious way nature's been blessing everything alive since the dawn of time. He's their son, their first born, their only child, and if it means he will forever be slotted in that fixed designation, then so be it.

It is what they both want. He knows this. If it were the other way around, he knows Angela would take Chuck and run. She would mourn him, as he will forever mourn her, but she would make the exact same decision. It steadies his hand, but weighs on his heart.

"You aren't allergic," he snaps, too fiercely, he knows, but he can't help it. "And you'll eat it or you're going to spend the rest of the summer in barracks, so help me!"

Chuck climbs up on the bench and stomps his foot. "You can't _make_ me!" he shouts, face red and eyes glassy in that way he gets. Herc just wants to take him into his arms and hold him tightly. Wants to wrap him up and protect him from everything. He understands now, the apprehension mothers face, once they realize the child they've spent all those long months fiercely protecting within them is now an independent entity and subject to all manner of unseen dangers they cannot predict.

He gets up, slamming both hands down on the table. "The _hell_ I can't!"

"Hey!" It's barely louder than a casual word, but the weight of it brings them both back to their senses. Herc, long before Chuck. Chuck, who flings himself from the bench and throws himself bodily at Scott. Not missing a beat, Scott sets his tray down, body curling protectively about his nephew.

It sets off every dark instinct within Herc that he cannot control. Of course he trusts his brother. Scott loves Chuck. He climbs into a Jaeger with him, drifts with him; Herc knows his brother's motivations. He knows he's doing his best, and that he may not like having inherited Angela's role in their lives, but he handles it as best he can. Herc knows that Scott wants them to get along, that he does everything in his power to help, knows how much the failure weighs on his brother, and just what it costs. He deflates. Sighing heavily and raking a hand through his hair.

"What's the matter?" Scott murmurs, stroking back Chuck's hair.

Chuck sniffs mightily and Herc realizes with a sinking heart, he doesn't even know if that sound means he's crying, he's about to, or he's refusing to. He sits back down, defeated.

Chuck is responding, but it's muffled badly by the combination of Scott's jacket and the position of their bodies.

Scott laughs softly and picks Chuck up, sitting down on the bench across from Herc and setting his nephew in his lap. "Of course you need to eat them, even if they're stupid. How are you going to pilot a Jaeger if you're a scrawny bean?"

Chuck sniffs and rubs his nose with his shirtsleeve.

Scott reaches up and cups his cheek, thumb smoothing away what Herc suspects are wayward tears Chuck shed in frustration. His son looks up slowly and meets his Uncle's gaze, blinking wetly. Scott leans in and raspberries his temple. Herc's only child folds in ticklishly with a small squeak.

Herc can feel the longing like a vice. He _wants_ that. He wants an easy, open relationship with Chuck. He just can't figure out how to go about it.

"Here, I'll trade you," Scott says, sliding his tray in front of Chuck and taking Chuck's from him - ensuring, Herc is quick to note, that Chuck receives _more_ food out of the deal. "They taste better warm. But, I'll eat anything out of a can. Always have." He smiles. "Right Herc?"

Herc appreciates the gesture. He wishes he could fall in with them, let it all be right again with that simplified ease Scott exudes. But he can't. It just isn't in him. So he snorts and points his spoon at his brother. "Don't list your failings, Scott. Not everything that comes in a can is good for you."

Scott laughs, smiling at him in a way that is both reassuring and comforting all at once. _Better_ , it says. _We just have to keep working on it._

Sometimes, the drift makes it so much easier. Herc can feel his brother's love and support inside him even now, and it eases the tension in his shoulders.

Chuck eats everything on Scott's tray and doesn't complain about a thing.


	3. A heart understands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott takes it upon himself to do a little mending.

If there's one thing Scott Hansen's learned about people, post Kaiju, it's that they like to focus on other people's problems to distract themselves from their own. Gossip is rampant. Of the many levels that makes their lives difficult these days, gossip is just below Kaiju, but definitely above laundering services and proper meals.

No one is safe. In fact, the higher profile you are, the _more_ likely you are to be the center of attention. And with celebrities mostly a thing of the past, Jaeger pilots - just below deification in most provinces - are the next best thing. People follow their careers avidly. Use their victories as reasons for celebrations and their losses for holidays. There is no escaping it.

A good pilot who knows the ropes is capable of deflecting attention by redirecting it. There are many ways to do this. The easiest of which is to keep people focused on what you do in the conn-pod. The more Kaiju carcasses you leave rotting in your wake, the less likely anyone is looking too closely at how many jaegerflies claim the honor of your private company.

The worst possible thing you can do is have a family. Complete with gut wrenching backstory. Which means people pay an unhealthy amount of attention to Lucky Seven, her pilots, and their little Jaegerlite. Herc has never been too good with receiving copious amounts of attention. He's always much preferred the quiet heroism, where no one knew but your company fellows and God. He has a tendency to say exactly the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time. And had amended this by simply choosing to not engage once they'd become Jaeger pilots. Scott agreed that refraining was in their best interest, but also continually pointed out that of the two of them - though he had the better looks and charm - Herc was the one people were always going to gravitate to most.

Gossips loved a tragic past and Herc had one of the most prominent ones in the PPDC. He hadn't just lost Angela that day. He'd made a choice. A choice that Scott knew would forever haunt him, though he'd never have chosen differently. Having Chuck, choosing Chuck, raising Chuck in the Shatterdomes of the world would forever be the Ace in the cap of any reporter worth their salt.

Even if it wasn't his family, Scott would have taken offense. Given it _was_ his family...well...

He wasn't rude. Scott was never rude when he could help it. Before he was a Jaeger pilot he was in marketing and he knew better than to wave so much as a fritzing flashlight at a stone bridge. You had to keep as many alliances thriving as you could possibly manage. And make as many new ones as you maintained to keep things running smoothly. He did his best to be charming and sincere, keeping as many people happy as he could while offering the least amount of actual information as he could.

People thought that Herc and Chuck couldn't get along. That the choice Herc had made - that echoed in _Scott's_ gut raw and fresh with every drift - had forever alienated his only child. They thought that Chuck would never be able to forgive him for the death of his mother. Given it was also what Herc thought, it didn't help matters any - no matter how much Scott argued, or how many memories he shared in the drift.

They thought that there was no love between father and son. Only cold, bitter feelings with no real outlet, except the Kaiju. It could not be further from the truth. His brother and nephew may have been emotionally stunted due to the loss of Angela, and yes, they were still deeply grieving - and probably always would - but it wasn't that they _didn't_ love each other. It was that they loved each other _too_ much.

They couldn't see it, of course. Each so focused on his own pain, his own loss, and in Herc's case, rebounding and compiling and assuming until Scott was literally screaming into the drift until they both had migraines for days afterward. So afraid that they would lose each other, that they drifted further and further apart. Boxing up and shutting down to make it easier to deal with one another. It couldn't hurt nearly as much that way. To lose each other. Of course, they both took that affection and funneled it into Scott.

Scott, who had to balance their lives _and_ his own. Delivering hugs and comforting words and support from father to son and back again because they were both too damn stubborn to relent and just grieve _with_ one another.

They were also too damn alike.

There were times Scott would look at Chuck and all he could see was an overlay of memories from his childhood. Sometimes, mid drift, Herc would get mildly distracted as one confused moment or another drifted by. Mostly, they didn't talk about it. Generally, because they didn't have to, but also because Herc never wanted to admit it. In a way, Scott supposed, it hurt him that Chuck was his clone in nearly every way. As if it somehow detracted from Angela's contributions to his life. Always forgetting that Chuck's mere _existence_ was the ultimate living tribute to his lost love.

On the rare occasions when they did, it didn't go well. Put strain on their relationship, which was frowned heavily upon by those in command. They'd always apologize later, in the way unique to them. And it would be over and done with. Perhaps it wasn't the best example to set for Chuck, but Scott was the younger brother and he figured some things were just always going to be on Herc's plate.

It was on one such occasion - after forgiveness was granted all around - that Scott called Chuck over. He and Herc still in dive suits and Lucky covered in the neon blue of Kaiju remains. His nephew ran right to him, throwing both arms about his middle and clutching tightly. Scott smoothed back his hair and kissed the top of his head for Herc. "Hey, glowworm, I have something for you." He flagged down the crew member who he'd left the box in care of. Smiling in thanks as they handed it off. "It's from me and your Dad." He ignored Chuck's dubious look and Herc's surprise thrumming in the back of his mind, though he merely straightened in solidarity. "Happy Birthday, Chuck!"

Chuck beamed, seeming to forget that a Kaiju had attacked on his birthday and left him terrified he'd be celebrating alone, or a complete orphan. Dropping into a crouch, he tugged on the bow, yanking it wide. Herc stepped up behind Scott, peering over his shoulder, half in interest but primarily to drink in the sight of his child so happy and carefree if only for a moment. As soon as the box lid was lifted he nudged Scott in the small of the back.

Scott just laughed. He'd known Herc would take an issue with it, even as he knew Chuck would be floored. His nephew looked up with wide, glassy eyes. " _Really_?" he gasped, eyes drifting from Scott to Herc. It was difficult to explain the jumble of consciousness and emotions that bloomed in Scott - courtesy of Herc - just then, but he knew a win when he saw one.

"Really," Herc replied, voice raspy.

Chuck reached in with shaking hands, giving a soft hiccuping laugh when his fingers were licked by a tiny tongue. He put both hands under the warm, round belly and lifted, drawing the small creature close reverently. He was desperately trying not to cry, Scott noted.

Even though he'd never drifted with his nephew, he didn't have to, to feel the relief drifting off him in waves. He stood slowly and Scott gave him a quick hug, his present tucked close to his chest. Turning to his father, he leaned into him. Herc froze and Scott could have swatted him for it, but it would have alerted Chuck. Thankfully, Herc regained his bearings, looping one arm loosely about his son.

"Thank you," Chuck murmured softly into his father's armor.

Herc smiled down at him. "So," he asked, carding a hand through his son's hair with an easy familiarity that had evaded him for some time. "What're you gonna name him?"

Chuck bit his lip in thought, shifting so he was pressed against the curve of Herc's body. His head dropped back against his father's chest and he picked the puppy up to observe him thoughtfully. Herc's arm settled about him, his other reaching out to scratch the puppy behind an ear affectionately.

Scott stepped away quietly and grinned to himself all the way to his bunk.

**Author's Note:**

> As this was based on a prompt, initially, feel free to pose scenarios you may wish to see, and I'll see what I can do about arranging them.


End file.
